Allegiance(56)
Spreading everything out on the soft quilt that covered the heavy oak bed, she sat cross-legged against the headboard and picked up each piece, using what was left of Nik’s borrowed, soot-blackened shirt to gently wipe it clean. A brass buckle and a few frayed strips of a leather strap like one might find on a trunk. The sole of a boot—Cage’s? She set it aside in case Nik wanted to Touch it.
Finally, she wiped off an irregular, sharp thing the size of a quarter. Glass. Blue glass. Impossible to tell if the bottle being carried by the dog was blue in Nik’s black-and-white drawing, but it looked about the right thickness. She set it aside as well and, by the time she finished, had found two more pieces and an intact ring of the glass—the rim of a bottle.
Robin felt her headache returning. She needed food, a nap, and some flight time, in that order. When Nik returned, they could talk it out.
A few hours and a nap later, Robin shifted. The sun had just slipped behind the tree line. She’d tucked her clothes underneath a bush at the edge of the woods behind the community house, spread her wings wide to test the temperature of the air and velocity of the currents, and then she flew.
She might not be as physically menacing as the jaguar shifters she’d gone through military training with, but by all that was holy, she could fly. Away from the dirt and decay and death of the earth, she saw things more clearly, healed both body and spirit, solved problems, and hunted.
Her Omega Force team leader in Houston used to tease her by saying she hunted rats and ate them. She hunted rats, all right, but she didn’t kill or eat her prey. She gave them a chance to do penance.
Police reports gave her the kind of rats she hunted. Fine things, police reports, part of the public record. She’d find the accounts of abusers and bullies online at a local library, make note of the address, stake out the place, and catch her target.
Then the guy would suffer a visit from something he didn’t know existed: a vengeful woman who could turn into a ruthless bird of prey. After all, who would believe him if he told?
A frightened bully responded well to threats, she’d learned—meaning she’d never had to kill any of them. But she would if she had to.
She’d done it before, killed a rat, and it had cost her the life she knew. And she’d do it again.
The higher she soared into the pine-rich air, the cooler it grew and the swifter the currents. She let herself coast, catching the gusts under her wings to lift her higher, and then letting herself plummet until she was forced to right her course.
There was a rat somewhere in Penton, and Robin was ready to hunt.
CHAPTER 16
With twilight’s approach came Cage’s gradual awakening. For most vampires it was sudden, that magical moment when the sun dropped below the horizon and awareness dawned. It was a gentle nudge to awaken you from a deep sleep, and you’d blink, groggy and disoriented for only a split second before sentience returned. That’s how it had been with Cage at first. But after he’d been turned about two decades, he’d begun awakening more gradually, and he considered it a gift. Edward had told him his powers were growing and he might one day reach that master vampire strength. A real mixed bag, that. Responsibility was a burden as well as a gift, and if one had the powers that came with master status, one had an obligation to use them.
Still, it was a deliciously human experience, burrowing under one’s duvet for the odd half hour to enjoy the peace and quiet while other vampires slept on.
When one wasn’t alone, the sensation was especially nice. Not that he’d enjoyed company in his daysleep for quite a few years. Well, decades. And never consistently.
The thought of waking next to a woman made him think of sex, a subject his cock found of extreme interest.
The thought of sex made him think of Robin Ashton. What a bad idea sex with his little bird would be. The woman was insane. And dangerous. His cock thought that was even more interesting.
The thought of not having sex with Robin made him think of Melissa, which woke him fully, persuaded his cock that no further encouragement would be forthcoming, and ruined the enjoyment of even solitary duvet burrowing.
They had to talk. Tonight. Now. Well, as soon as she woke. Wouldn’t do much good to let her down gently if she wasn’t conscious, although it would be considerably less stressful for him.
Cage sat up and threw off the thick, soft cover, his limbs still heavy with the last dregs of daysleep. They should’ve talked last night, but by the time he and Melissa had gotten her car, and she’d shared Mirren’s theories about the order in which Matthias probably wanted them to die—with both of them near the top of the list—they’d had to hoof it to get settled before sunrise.